My First Heckler... A Real Writer without a Parachute

Well, it was bound to happen. I've received my first heckler. Contrary to his belief, I do not shy away from hecklers. In case you missed it, "a real writer" wrote this comment on my last post:

"oh good. your book will be on kindle. yeh we can all find another way to read a piss poor book. i dont know why i'm bothering even wasting my time writing a comment your just going to delate and not let anyone else read. coward. i have been trying to get published for nearly a year and i red your book. the 4 worst books ever written are yours, tucker max, maddox, and chaz Chad Kultgen's. i am a better writer than all of you and can't get published. having read your books i don't even want to be published now. they make me not want to read or write. i can't even write a review on amazon because i don't have a credit card but my reviews on all your books are coming out on barnes and noble. big surprise there's nowhere to write on your site how bad your book is or on maddox and chad doesn't even have one and tucker aproves his before they post so i know anything i write won't go up there. maybe someone will read this before you delate it and save themself from a hrorible read. i am no longer tryhing to get published if this is the kinds of stuff they publish now they can have it. you guys are all a bunch of talentless losers who just got lucky or knew someone and have lots of money to sit around and not have to work."

In case you don't know, Tucker Max and Maddox are two of the most popular personalities on the Internet. I never heard of "chaz Chad Kultgen" but I googled his name and got some info.

I'm not going to criticize the heckler for not liking my book. I really don't have the time or care. Plus, if you don't like my work, or anyone elses for that matter, that's cool and expected. Sure, I'd like everyone to like my work but that's simply unrealistic. I will, however, criticize the heckler for being precisely what he claims I and these other authors are: lazy.

Are you kidding me? I work my ass off and don't get paid for anything but the books I sell. I did an interview this morning with a popular site for twenty-year-olds that will come out next week. I'm busy putting proposals together and submitting them to publishers and agents for future books. I have to stay on top of all my columns, blogging, and business aspects, like updating my site and getting "Lunch is Not a Date" into a blog format. It is amazing how busy I get. Hell, I finally did laundry for the first time in a month, Monday, and I haven't even had time to fold the clothes and put them away, yet! I have other projects in the works, too, and don't have a day job, so I have no real money (I am far from rich). I was the hardest touring comedian in the 1990's, with the record setting 106-straight weeks on the road.

Tucker Max maintains a site and business of sites known as Rudius Media. (I actually applied unsuccessfully to have a blog with them, detailing my experience as a traffic coordinator for a ritzy private school in Chicago; funny stuff.) His company has acted as an agent and landed some of their bloggers book deals. His book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell has done remarkably well, and continues to do so. He has two previous books that I found on Amazon, the first one published in 2001. They do not come close to sharing the success of his most recent book.

Maddox is the author of another very successful book--The Alphabet of Manliness. He has been posting to his site for ten years.

Tucker and Maddox are so successful, I offered them both the opportunity to read my book to provide quotes for the back. Why? For the same reason I approached the NY Times--they have a built-in audience who greatly respects their opinions. They've earned that credibility and the prestige to provide quotes for books. (Tucker declined, I never heard back from Maddox.)

Chad Kultgen authored a book called The Average American Male. He has a couple screenplays in production. (Getting published is ridiculously hard; selling a screenplay is at least twice as hard.)

What do the four of us have in common? Really only one thing: We are far from lazy. Lazy? Call us lazy? You've got to be fucking kidding me. It's obvious that we've all worked our asses off and continue to do so. Heckler? You've been trying to sell your book for "nearly a year?" Ooh. Sounds like a lot of work. You can't even take the time to use capital letters, proper grammar, or check your spelling. I can't even imagine what your manuscript looks like. Is it even typed? (Go to http://www.benderspink.com/ and click "Submit Script." I bet the heckler submits his work like that.)

It's not us that are lazy; clearly, it's you. Maddox and Tucker created their own audiences via hard, consistent work. (And Tucker had to fit in enough time to get plastered and do crazy things to write about through all that!) In truth, they helped pave the way for books like mine and Chad's. Instead of being jealous and lazily giving up, push harder. Hell, I tell you how I published on my site. You can pretty much do all that on your own without a publisher.

Don't follow our examples, though, because there's someone who trumps as all.

I had a tough childhood. My parents got separated when I was three, my father was never around, he kidnapped me for a year when I was five, yada yada yada. (Notice I make no excuses and didn't give up on life.) My oldest nephew, eleven, has even a tougher time with his mom (my sister). He has a two and five-year-old sister and brother, respectively. You all know my older sister has problems. They often run out of food (if I was rich, I'd feed them, heckler). My nephew worries about that. Does he give up? Throw in the towel? No. At age eleven, he pushes through.

When I dropped off his sister yesterday after a day of working out at the aquarium ("I want up," "I want down," "I want up," "I want down...;" I spent the day lifting her up and down so she could see the tanks better. Forget the gym; take a toddler to the aquarium or zoo), my nephew showed me his piggy bank, filled with $14 and some odd change. I asked him where he got it. He took me to his room. There, he told me about his business, new this year. He sells parachutes he makes from index cards, trash bags, and other everyday household items. He has four different sizes for prices from 25 cents to $1.00. He developed the "manufacturing technique" himself and employs several friends now, because business is booming since he started it on January 7th. Today, he delivers an order of ten large parachutes for $10. Yesterday he delivered an order to a six-year-old for 50 cents who wanted a parachute large enough to hold her small stuffed animals. He has developed a hot air balloon, which he will begin selling in a few weeks.

My nephew, at age eleven (how many of us could do this at eleven? Not me, that's for sure), sucks it up and does what he can; not for himself but to contribute to the family income, so that they will all have enough food. Fucking unbelievable and my new mentor. I'm sure, though, heckler, that his parachutes won't stand up to a 100mph wind and therefore suck. Did you think of his idea first but then never implement it? Probably. You're a quitter. Nothing wrong with that but don't project that onto those of us who never quit. Face up to it and move on. Buy yourself a stuffed animal and a parachute in which to carry it... you'll feel better. Don't worry; my nephew doesn't take credit cards, so you're good.

Tucker's site is http://www.tuckermax.com
Maddox's site is http://www.maddox.xmission.com
My nephew does not have a site... yet...

"Otay" is the New "Okay"

This is what I've learned this past week from my two-year-old niece:

1) "Otay" is the new "Okay"
2) "I'm sorry" makes everything "Otay"
3) Sitting on the potty and not doing a damn thing fifteen times a day is worthy of a cookie and a celebratory cheer of "I did it!" each time. Of course, I have to be witness to this event every time because someone has to know she deserves the cookie. (She does nothing on the toilet and I still have to change her diaper several times a day.)

4) The typical two-year-old gets up a dozen times each night for the following reasons, always in this order: isn't tired, is scared, doesn't need to go to bed, wants some milk, wants some water, has to go potty, wants some juice, there is a monster under the bed, isn't tired, is scared, it's dark, and it's dark again

5) "Why?" is the only word in the dictionary
"Get down." "Why?"
"Eat your carrots." "Why?"
"Put that down." "Why?"
"We can't do that now." "Why?"

6) There is never a time for bed
"Time for bed." "No!" "Yes." "I'm not tired." "When will you be tired?" "Never! I don't need to ever go to bed!"

Mostly, this week I've learned that I'm a great big teddy bear, on which to pounce, kick, crawl, and hug. Not bad at all.

My Sister's Kids

If you're wondering where I've been, I have my older sister's kids for a while. So, I am now responsible for three kids, ages 11, 5, and 2. She's busy with some things, so I agreed to watch them for a while. I'll be back in full swing after the holidays. Until then, I'm busy holding a toddler over the toilet so she can "go potty" and doing other such things. Have a great holiday, everyone!

The Rudy Way

Sorry I've been gone and distracted so much lately. My stepfather's passing last Monday has been somewhat traumatic and been keeping me busy. I will be back in full form next week, although I am leaving town again around the middle of October--going on a trip with my mom that her and my stepfather were supposed to take. Here is my latest column:

I apologize for not having last week's column up on-time. It was supposed to go up on September 21st and instead it went up on September 26th. Unfortunately, on Monday, September 24th, my mom called me in the night to inform me that my stepfather--Rudy--had passed away. I packed a bag and headed out to be with her in Ohio the next morning. I only got access to the site again today. As such, it will be the column for both September 21st and 28th, in honor and memory of Rudy.

I learned some key things about women and relationships from Rudy. They bear repeating.

"If you try to understand a woman, it's your own damn fault." Rudy told me that when I was in my early twenties, upset about a woman who had hurt me. ("Laura" in the book.) What he was really saying was that women are emotional. There will be many times when a woman acts out of emotion instead of rationale; don't try to understand it. Accept it. Empathize with it. Ignore it. Be pissed about it. But never, ever, try to understand it; because, as a man, you won't.

"A lot of people like me. A lot of people don't. I try to spend as much time as possible with the ones who like me and as little with the ones who don't." When you think about it, it's surprising how much time we spend trying to make people like us. Why? Spend that time with people who do like you. Dating isn't any different. If you find yourself spending a lot of time trying to convince a guy to like you or chasing a woman who keeps turning you down, open your eyes; re-invest that time in someone who shows interest.

Here's a catchy little line that gets a laugh and starts a conversation. I haven't used lines in years but I did use this one a few times and Rudy swore by it. It's very laid back, which is a big part of why it works. Approach a woman and ask, "If I won millions in the lottery, would you run away with me?" The woman almost always replies positively. "Can I borrow a dollar?" When she looks at you inquisitively, reply, "To buy the lottery ticket." This gets a laugh and then leads to a conversation. On the off chance that she says "no" to running away with you, reply, "See, this is why you're single. How much would I have to have for you to run away with me?" Banter with her. Chances are she'll mumble something about there not being enough money in the world for her to run away with her. Tell her, "Good, because I don't have enough to even pay for the drink I'm about to buy you." As long as you get a laugh somewhere along the way, you can get a conversation going. If you don't get a laugh, hey, read the entry before this one--"A lot of people like me. A lot of people don't..."

Dirty jokes work on women. Rudy told tons. Women always fell for them, including my mom--who supposedly hated dirty jokes. It's all about the timing and delivery. Here's one that's actually pretty clean: Three couples go to see a priest about joining the Catholic church. He tells them in order to join the church, they will have to give up something dear to them to show their loyalty to God. He decides that they must give up sex for thirty days. After thirty days, the reluctant couples return to see the priest. He asks them how it went. The first couple replies, "Man, it was tough; we had a really hard time, especially on the twentieth day. Wow, she was looking hot that day, but we hung in there and we didn't have sex for thirty days." "Welcome to the Catholic Church. And you?" "It was tough, really, really, really tough, but we did not have sex for thirty days." The priest welcomes the second couple, as well. He then asks the third couple, "How about you?" The guy shakes his head, "Man, we were doing really well but then on the twenty-third day, she dropped an apple. When she bent over to pick it up, I just snapped. I took her right then and there. It was the most passionate, hottest, loudest lovemaking we've ever had." "Okay, well, I'm sorry but you're not going to be able to get into the church." The guy scuffs, "Pfft, yeah, we're having trouble getting back into the supermarket, too."

What I learned most from Rudy was that when it comes right down to it with relationships with women, it's not about money, looks, or style. It's about showing them you are thinking of them. You do that by surprising them with a gift or date that relates to something they mentioned in passing, which they thought you never even noticed. Do something romantic every now and then. Rudy faired far better with women by surprising them with a picnic in a park or with roller skates to go on a surprise skating date, than other guys who dressed sharply, dropped a heavy dime, and spent their time talking about their own accomplishments. Pay attention to the woman. It really is that easy. (That doesn't mean be a sap or "nice guy.")

Here's a little trick Rudy used that might work in your area. He found out where the airlines put up stewardesses. He became friends with the desk clerks of those hotels and they gave him a call whenever a few strikingly girls landed. Rudy then went to their room and offered to show them the town. Of course, that was years ago. Nowadays, you'll have to put a spin on it in order to make it work; you probably won't be able to get hotel room numbers flat out. Use your imagination; maybe you can find out where the flight attendants eat or what time their flights are landing--that would be key because you could be in the lobby when they arrive.

Most of all from Rudy, I learned that life is short and to enjoy it. I live everyday to its fullest and discovered after his death, from his good friends and neighbors, that he thought highly of me and my approach to life. He was happy for me, that I was able to travel as a comedian during my "early years" and that I have a book out, which is selling well and helping others lead happier lives. It makes sense, since, in a way, I'm really trying to teach people what he taught me. "Tomorrow is not another day; tomorrow is today's backup plan." That philosophy of mine came from a combination of myself, Rudy, and "Carpe diem" from Dead Poets Society. I thought highly of you, too, Rudy. Thanks for all the advice and for being there when I needed it. I will do my best to spread your philosophy and keep it alive.

Stepfather Passed Away

"If you teach a man to fish, he'll take your best spot." That was one of Rudy's many favorite lines. Who is Rudy? For all practical purposes, my stepfather. He and my mother have been together for over 22 years, making them married under common law. Both had bad first marriages and figured why jinx their relationship by buying more rings? If you think of Santa as a beer drinker and teller of dirty jokes, you've got Rudy. On Monday, at age 79, he unfortunately passed away, sitting in a chair, flipping through old limericks he had photocopied, out in the garage. Ironic, since he always complained to my mom--who bugged him repeatedly to clean out the garage--"if this is my last day on Earth, I don't want to spend it cleaning out the garage." Well, that's what he was doing--cleaning out the garage.

I drove out to Ohio, where my mom and Rudy live, Tuesday morning. I've been here since, with very limited Internet access. (I hack a signal from a neighbor but usually it's not strong enough to gain access.) So for those who have been emailing me, sorry I haven't replied; I probably won't get a chance to until next week.

Rudy had the life, man. He retired young after owning a pool hall and inheriting some money. He made wise monetary decisions and was thrifty. He traveled extensively, living in his favorite places at their peak times of year--Florida in the winter, Chicago in the summer, and so forth, until he met my mom. He was the guy everyone knew and everyone liked. He always went out of his way for people, taking time to bring them things or do work for them. For me, it is a huge loss, leaving a great void. Rudy was my advisor. When I had questions, he had advice. I spoke to him only a few hours before he passed about a situation with work.

I don't really know what else to write just yet, I just wanted to get some thoughts out and let you all know why I've been absent recently. I'll be back soon...

T-Day: Family, Turkey... and a New Sweater?

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving; I am only now just able to re-button my pants after my mom's excellent meal. By the way, yesterday was Black Friday. Michael Richards completely misunderstood the meaning. He went out of the country, took some needed time for R&R, and went to a slave sale. Hey, hey, HEY! He's not racist; he only browsed, he didn't buy. Racists buy. Grr, I'm still so mad at that guy! Then he further adds insult by saying he's not racist. Okay... yeah, right. I feel bad for the guy who had to follow him, that had to suck! No one's stopped to think about that guy. The other comics probably made some first-timer go up.

"No, no, go ahead. The crowd's great."
"Yeah, man. 'Worked into a frenzy' and 'the crowd's angry like a lynch mob' are good terms in comedy."

Poor guy. Anyway, as I alluded to, I headed to my mom's for T-Day. She lives in Rockford, OH, in a house with her boyfriend (they've been dating for nearly twenty years, far longer than either of them was married). For those who don't know, I live in Chicago. Rockford is quite a change. It's a small town in the middle of nowhere. The closest "city" is Ft. Wayne, IN, which is an hour away and hardly a city. So I had to drive it, which I prefer and I must admit, although I wouldn't want to live in Rockford, it is a nice change of pace from the city. It's quiet and there seems to be far more time to get things done.

I was the only one who made it to my mom's this T-Day. My younger sister has her own family of two kids in Florida and my older sister was stuck in a suburb of Chicago with her three kids, making Ohio even more peaceful than past holidays. I do love having the nieces and nephews around, and they adore me because I play with them constantly, but it is nice to just sit around and do nothing. I was wary of not having my two sisters around, though. And with good reason...

While all three of us enjoy going home to be waited on hand and foot by my mom, there is always something that we know she is going to do to make one of us feel like a little embarrassed kid again. Being the only one there, I was her only option to embarrass and this year she was in rare form. (Mothers have a gift for making their children, no matter how old, how big, or what their vocation, feel like the eyes of the world are watching and laughing at them. Mine excels at it; the mom in Everybody Loves Raymond studied under her.)

On my way into town, I stopped at Wal-Mart to pick up my mom a birthday card (she turned 65 on T-Day). While I was there, I met a cute employee with pretty eyes (I'm a big sucker for eyes; they're my one weakness when it comes to women). We got to talking and she gave me her number. I figured we'd get together on Saturday night. It helped a lot that I was from the big city, which tends to intrigue lots of small town women, especially ones like Teresa, who had never been to a city.

I got to my mom's and gave her the card. She thought it was so funny, she insisted we go back to Wal-Mart immediately and buy several more. At Wal-Mart, she coaxed me to the back of the store, where she promptly had me remove my shirt and took my measurements with a tape measure. She had decided to knit me a sweater for Christmas. How nice. We couldn't do the measuring at home for some reason, no it had to be in the store (I think she wanted to buy yarn while she was there). People walked by and pointed while I stood there, being measured by my mommy for a sweater I'll probably never wear. I felt exactly like I was five again. Good times. Oh well, I guess I should be glad. When I was a kid, she would have measured me in the front of the store, where no patrons would miss it. She's getting a little better at being more thoughtful... It was almost over when who should walk by? Yup, Teresa, of course. She stood there and stared at me, frowning, before walking away.

I knew I was screwed but I found Teresa anyway (which is no easy feat. Ever been in a Wal-Mart? I just thank God it wasn't a Super Wal-Mart... you could park a 747 in one of those places and not find it). She gave me a phony smile and I told her I'd call her about Saturday. Much to my surprise, she replied, "You know, I just remembered I have plans for Saturday. I'm sorry." I went from being studly big city guy to lowly mommy's-measuring-me boy. She probably even thought I was bs'ing about being from Chicago after seeing my mom measuring me.

"I understand. Take it easy." I found my mommy and we headed home.

That night over the turkey at dinner, the topic of my book came up. My mom's boyfriend, Rudy, had started reading the copy I gave him earlier that day. (Incidentally, although he wouldn't tell me this, my mom informed me that he liked it a lot. He said there was a lot of good advice in there that would have helped him out back when he was green and that the stories were funny and engaging. This is great news for two reasons. First, it tells me that my notion that the games men and women play when it comes to dating and sex, as well as their thinking, have not changed much over the last several decades, is accurate--Rudy's 78--and second, the book appeals to a broad audience, since Rudy is well out of the 18-45 year-old target demographic.) Any rate, Rudy commented, "You didn't date much in high school or when you visited home from college. I remember that. Also, you've only ever brought one of your girlfriends by."

My mom jumped in, "Yeah, why is that?"

I simply looked at her, smiled, and shrugged, "I don't know. Think you'll have that sweater done for me in time for Christmas?" I took a sip from my plastic mug--mom's afraid people will break her glass ones...